When Geoffrey of Monmouth published Historia Regum Britanniae in 1136, serious scholars of his day and a little later, including Gerald of Wales, criticized the work as obviously fabrication. Even in the twelfth century its contents weren’t believable. Almost nine hundred years later its legacy is not of being an important historical work but, as translator Lewis Thorpe puts it, as a legitimately incredible prose epic. Remember Geoffrey of Monmouth not as a historian but as an artist in the vein of Homer or Virgil. He’s right. Whatever historical merits this book has are unimportant next to its greatness as epic literature that fed the creativity of European writers over the next millennium.
As for those historical merits, I’m not sure how much of this history constitutes real history. There are real people and battles and events in here. Geoffrey pulls mostly from Gildas, Bede, and Nennius for his real history, and from the latter also for the bones of many of his myths. But the real history is overshadowed by the main attractors in the narrative, the enormous characters of myth who never existed, the raging battles that are brought to life with surprising detail and invention, despite never occurring, and a blend of people and battles and happenings that did exist, or maybe existed, but historians aren’t confident enough to say for sure. In short, this is myth-history that really stands tall as world epic.
What Geoffrey���s sources were for many of his more imaginative tales no one knows. There is speculation only. He claims to have been translating an old document from British to Latin, but that document, if it existed, has been lost in the hundreds of years that have passed. Some scholars think there is evidence that such a source manuscript existed, and that other histories were written from its information, but this has never been conclusively proven. Others contend that Geoffrey’s source for his wild tales were the stories of learned men of the church or the schools, who passed these tales down through oral tradition. But of these traditions nothing else has been learned. Many rest on the assumption that Geoffrey was the inventor of everything in this book.
Whatever the truth is, it’s a brilliant book. It can safely be said this is the book that brought the Arthurian legend to life, turning a minor character from Nennius’s bare bones history into the immortal hero of an entire continent for the next nine hundred years. Arthur and his court appeared in earlier tales from the Mabinogion, as a recurring character. This is where he really got his start in mythology. But he was never given such extensive development, nor was he the central focus of any of the stories, he was a supporting character, sometimes in the background. Here he takes up almost 20% of the book, and his heroic legend is fleshed out in grand detail. But there’s so much more to the book than the Arthurian angle that it warrants our attention and adoration from all sides.
Geoffrey was attempting a sweeping history of Britain, covering nineteen hundred years, from the legendary fall of Troy in about 1260 BC to the departure of King Cadwallader from Britain in 689 AD after the plagues. He was writing after the Normans had taken over England, and intended to produce a record of the island’s long genealogy of kings and battles to showcase the glory and heritage of its rulers, descending, as he believed, from Aeneas after he escaped from Troy, to the invasions of the Saxons. Geoffrey’s history claims Aeneas’s great-great-grandson Brutus was England’s founder, after a prophecy predicted he would discover the land on his voyage away from Italy and Greece.
The sprawling saga begins in the world and myths of Homer, and treats this setting as authentic history, colored with drama and battle and violence. These ingredients will almost never be missing from Geoffrey’s huge work. Brutus leads the Trojans into battles and eventually across the seas to their new home, not without conflict against pirates and monsters and hardship. Those who conquer the island with Brutus, like Corineus, go on to have their own side adventures and minor storylines, until we are generations later and many battles have been fought. We find ourselves in the years before the Romans came, when all manner of heroes and kings have arisen from long lineages of warlords and nobility. Brothers Belinus and Brennius, sons of Dunvallo Molmitus, quarrel and first oppose one another in Northumbria, but later reconcile at the behest of their mother, and work together to sack Gaul and later Rome. Their exploits and vicissitudes serve as the turbulent, exhilarating prequel to Rome’s invasion of Britain, which is dressed in elements of truth, like Julius Caesar’s campaigns in Gaul and his attacks on Britain.
King Leir, made famous by Shakespeare, first appears here in Geoffrey’s history, as the last in the line of Brutus’s male heirs. His drama is told in full, with his three daughters, their differing dispositions toward their father, and the grueling battles that would finally erupt as the aging king fought to regain his kingdom with one daughter’s help. This book seems to be either the origin or the oldest existent record of many pieces of folklore, myth, and legend that are now canon in European literature. One has to assume that Geoffrey had at least oral traditions as his sources, because if he made up everything he is credited with, he’s Britain’s real bard, a more original and inventive and creatively gifted inventor than all of those who would come later and have their names raised to everlasting fame.
There are anachronistic flourishes throughout the work. Early in Britain’s history, even before the coming of the Romans, Geoffrey refers to the Norwegians and Danes, and the rulers of these lands having conflicts with the British. The inhabitants of England didn’t have any encounters with, or knowledge of, Scandinavia at this time. He also has men in Arthur’s time and before, in the fifth and sixth centuries, traveling to and invading Norway and Denmark. I’d love to know the way this mythos developed, since to my knowledge the British didn’t become aware of the people of the north until the Viking invasions in the 8th and 9th centuries. Were these traditions that began with different people and evolved to depict the Scandinavians after their invasions of the Isles? I haven’t found any commentary on this so all I can offer is baseless speculation.
The Roman invasions of the island present us with many new kings, warlords, battles, and stories of excellent quality, an unwinding series of marvels and conflicts between Picts and Huns and Scots and Britons and Romans and barbarians of all types. The House of Constantine brings into focus the lineage of Roman descended rulers in England, until we arrive at King Vortigern, and the coming of Saxons Hengist and Horsa to the island. The king’s turbulent relationship with these men and their Saxon hordes climaxes in the Night of the Long Knives, and Merlin’s prophecies foreshadow the glorious rise of Arthur, son of Utherpendragon and nephew of Aurelius Ambrosius.
There is overlap with Nennius’s history, and Geoffrey tells of similar events but with an artist’s creative embellishment and force of imagination. The story of Merlin told by Nennius is here, with the dragons in the stones under the pools buried beneath the land upon which Vortigern plans to build his tower. The white and red dragons represent Britain and its Saxon invaders, with the red dragon to this day being the symbol of Wales. But Geoffrey goes the extra mile and reveals to us Merlin’s prophecies, many pages of obscure, esoteric riddles and word puzzles and metaphoric musings purported to have been uttered by Merlin himself. Where Geoffrey found these, or if he made them up, is not clear to me. I think some of them he took from old Welsh sources, like the Black Book of Carmarthen.
Knowing what we do about King Arthur’s later conquests against the Saxons, some of these prophecies can be pieced together into a coherent interpretation. Others remain an amazing mystery of animal references, strange observations of natural power, vague ruminations about war and victory, objects imbued with color and charms and light. Almost all of Merlin’s prophecies are indecipherable but sound convincingly magical so that legions of writers of later eras could have grabbed them as sparks of stories and critical moments in a plot.
There’s an extended tale of Merlin’s involvement in bringing over the Giant’s Ring from Ireland, better known as Stonehenge. Aurelius Ambrosius needs a monument for his fallen soldiers in their victory over the Saxons. Merlin’s brilliance allows him to transport these massive stones from one island to another. Merlin here is not magical so much as scientifically gifted, and it is through his skill in this area that he achieves most of his amazing feats. His only involvement with King Arthur is from a distance, giving a potion to Utherpendragon to disguise him as the husband of a woman he has fallen for, so that he may sneak into the castle at Tintagel where she has been hidden. In this way he impregnates her with Arthur.
The King Arthur of Geoffrey’s magnum opus is a ruthless conqueror who grows his kingdom far beyond the borders of the island, invading Gaul and most of Northern and Western Europe, taking what he wants by force. He fights giants, he marches against the Romans, and he backs down from nothing. He is portrayed as noble though not as virtuous as his later writers would have him. There is no round table, but he does have a court of knights in Caerleon-on-Usk: Cador, Gawain, cup bearer Bedevere, and Seneschal Kay. Arthur is heroic and virtually undefeatable. When he finally falls in battle he is only wounded, and is taken to the Isle of Avalon where, we can guess, he will one day rise to return to liberate England from the Saxons.
After Arthur’s betrayal by his nephew Mordred the kingdom is split among many rulers, which by now is the rule more than the exception in this island’s mythical and real history. Again, war and blood cover the land, and uncertainty reigns, the country lies in ruins as numerous conquerors lay waste in their campaigns, until plagues drive from the island King Cadwallader and his people, leaving behind only the Welsh to carry forward the memory of the ancients. Many surprising stories still are told in these unfolding centuries. It’s amazing how eclectic the numerous sagas and tales are, no two throughout the whole book sharing more than surface similarities, like grueling warfare, or feuding kings, or deceptive conspirators. Beyond that, every new thread of the narrative, whether a brief half page or 40 pages, feels new and unique, with historical patterns chugging below the surface, but the details and the people and the stakes always different. Every thread unravels in ways ghastly or fantastic or triumphant or awesome. Geoffrey discusses the Britons’ fall from grace, the ruination of their country, and its changing identity as it becomes England.
The book is an exceptionally thrilling story of these kings, their people, and their wars, their endless trials and conquests and failures. It is told with the skill of a master storyteller straining his fantasy through the lens of history. Though his scope is vast and covers many centuries, Geoffrey of Monmouth manages to expand many of the most fascinating characters and events into well contained sagas that bleed together into something greater. It has the same romantic qualities that made chanson de gests so popular, the Icelandic sagas so amazing, and that make the Middle Ages stand out as a time of remarkable beauty, oddness, and intrigue. This is one of the sourcebooks of Europe’s medieval imagination. I can’t praise it highly enough. It is a rare marvel of scholarship that appears deceptively serious and well researched at first, but is also an artist’s careful rendition of how he wishes history had unfolded. Geoffrey’s world of antiquity and dark ages is the model for all fantasy authors who came later.